


Contrasts

by presidentcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Disabled Character, Disabled Dean, M/M, playing around with the writing style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:18:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6665617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentcas/pseuds/presidentcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean is disabled and kind of a jerk, but Castiel teaches him a thing or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contrasts

Dean Winchester was a grumpy old man somebody accidentally put into a seventeen-year old body. Castiel though so, anyway. He seemed to hate everyone and everything, he always stayed to himself and he didn’t hear crap (mostly because music was always playing through his headphones, but still.) Grumpy old man. He was convinced of it. 

Castiel Novak was a Goddamned angel put into a seventeen-year old body. Dean though so, anyway. He was always so kind, and helpful and really gorgeous (In an angel-like way.) Goddamned angel. He was convinced of it. 

Dean was rolling through the hallway in his ugly black wheelchair, eyes strictly glued to his locker, the Zeps blasting loud enough for everyone to hear it. His books were in his lap and he spun the wheels quickly. Currently, Dean had a single goal in life. Getting to lunch.

Castiel was walking through the hallway in his trench coat, looking all around and smiling. His books were in his arms and he took his time, walking slowly and greeting everyone he passed. Currently, Castiel had a single goal in life. Asking Dean on a date. 

Dean stopped at his locker and struggled to open it. He managed it eventually. He focused on getting his books, so he didn’t hear the caught from behind. In fact, he didn’t consider the fact that someone might exist nearby until he almost crashed right into Castiel. He swore loudly. 

Castiel sat on the ground, and Dean looked at him as if he was dyeing and it was his fault. Castiel laughed loudly and started to pick up his books. He didn’t mention the fact that Dean wasn’t helping him. He actually didn’t even think about it, since Dean was in a wheelchair after all. Dean, however, did think about it.

“I would help,” Dean said. “But it’s not like I could really reach a whole lot of them. Not without falling out of this damn thing, anyway.” He looked apologetic and sad. He was just mad at the world, like always. People were walking by, so many of them, and they didn’t know how lucky they were. Dean didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. 

“It’s fine,” Castiel smiled. “I can reach them nicely myself. How are you?” He looked happy and naive. He was just enjoying his life, like always. People were walking by, so many of them, and they didn’t think about how lucky they were. Castiel didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not.

“Everyone’s always asking that,” Dean said grumpily. 

“It’s a thing people ask. Something I believe goes by the term of manners.” 

“Well in that case, I’m just as crap as always. How ‘bout you?” 

“I’m just as good as always.”

Dean started rolling away, because he really wanted to get some lunch before the cafeteria closed. Castiel followed. 

“You’re too damn happy. Gonna get hit real hard some day.”

“I could say the same for you, except sad and angry-wise.” 

Dean just shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” They went up to wait in line. Someone in front of him gestured for him to go past them, but he waited. The entirety of life was waiting for death. Dean could do some waiting for some crappy food. Castiel stood behind him. 

“I am.” Awkward pause. “Would you like to get a bite to eat with me?” Castiel asked nervously, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. 

“That’s what we’re doing, Cas, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Dean smiled sarcastically. 

“I did notice. I mean, like… like a date. The two of us, dinner and a movie or something.” 

And then Dean laughed really loudly. “Right, yeah, a date with this mess!” he gestured to himself and kept laughing. “Sure, sure. Who asked you to pull this brilliant prank? Was it Dick Roman? Freakin’-“ 

“No,” Cas interrupted. “It’s not a prank! Promise.”

Dean looked at him angrily, but there was doubt in his eyes. “Don’t force my hand - you won’t like what happens.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m serious, Dean. You’re not a mess, not at all, and I’d really, really like to go on a date with you.” 

Dean looked like he was in mild shock, and he totally forgot that he stood in line for a while. Castiel gestured to the empty room ahead of them and Dean rolled his chair forward a little bit. 

“Okay,” he said, but he sounded uncertain. “Okay.” This time he was surer of it. He smiled. 

“Awesome! Got any plans tonight?”

“Nope. No plans.” 

And then they went on a date, and another, and another. Along the way Castiel became less naive, and he started to believe that Dean actually wasn’t a grumpy old man. Maybe a grumpy middle aged man, rather. Dean became happier. Much, much happier. He still believed that Castiel was an angel, but not one sent from heaven. Just a regular, everyday angel. He started believing in those. His goal was no longer getting by, but to have a future. Preferably one with Castiel.

(Which, by the way, was a goal he totally succeeded in.)


End file.
